How Did This Come To Be?
by The Circus
Summary: It's not often the detectivtes of NSY get shoved off their own crime sceen for reasons not concerning Sherlock Holmes. It's even less often that Sherlock gets shoved off with them. So why can John stay?


It was rare that the detectives of NSY didn't get the information they were looking for. After all, Sherlock Holmes existed (even if he was an annoying (insert word of choice here). And if the little big details he unearthed required follow up that was slightly more restricted than each person was strictly allowed to see, well, they had a System that worked a bit like fight club: Rule One- don't talk about The System. Rule Two- no, seriously, don't, because it will be all our arses if it's officially known about.

The System (utterly deserving of the Capital Letters) worked thusly. If you don't have the security clearance to see the necessary files, talk sideways to someone who does. An anonymous package will arrive on your desk, probably within 24 hours and you make your excuses and take a long tea break in the small and utterly brilliant independent cafe around the corner that survives purely due to the number of officers in and out of there. It works well, and it's a rare day that someone can't get the files they need.

It's a rare day. They're standing round a body that is, as Sherlock had put it, "obviously military". It's a young bloke, twenty six according to the dog tags, short cut brown hair and a face that looks made for happily mad grins. It's a messy scene, and not all the blood there is the victims (Zusak. P. R say the tags along with the fact that he's A+ and Jewish, at least according to John, who had taken one glance at it and frowned), some of it comes from others and drips lead to the end of the alley, where van tracks race away.

Sherlock is darting all over, and Lestrade sighs as he watches, keeping half an unnecessary eye on John, who is still crouched over the body, trying to decide which injury is responsible for death. With one this messy though, it's more likely to be a combination. So consequently he sees when John freezes and his shoulders kick back a notch. It's the exact same time that the black mirror like car comes gliding to a halt and a man steps out. He's in uniform and his armband says MP. Military police.

They are all hustled back and away from their work with grumbles and complaints. Sherlock slides closer to John who hasn't even looked up from the body of Zusak. P. R. A+, Jewish and continues with his examination. More people are arriving now, in vans and quietly take over where they left off, politely asking about what they have so far. Lestrade is approached by the man in charge of them- like himself, grey haired and early fifties, severe face with a self-depreciating grin as he apologises for taking over the scene. Lestrade smiles back and says how he was half expecting it, but how did they get here so fast?

"Oh, Captain Watson called us around twenty minutes ago." Major Colfer says. "Well, he called central and said.." he cut off abruptly and looked over at John, who was standing up and stripping off the mucky latex gloves. "Sorry, what's your clearance?"

Lestrade tells him. It's quite high; one of the benefits of working often with Sherlock is the clearance that comes with some of the more political cases. Major Colfer looks at him just as John reaches them, Sherlock behind him, looming like a great black coated aerial shadow.

They all watch as the Major, and everybody else new to the scene snaps upright and into a salute for John. John salutes back and nods to the Major.

"Thank you" he says, accepting it smoothly though his embarrassment can be seen in the slight flush to his cheeks. Then he turns to Lestrade and Sherlock and tells them that they need to go and wait with everybody else if they're going to stay on scene.

"What?" Sherlock crowds' right into John's face and Lestrade doesn't miss how every new person tenses slightly, as if waiting to see John's reaction. They don't try and come to his defence. John doesn't need it; Lestrade has seen him take down two armed thugs, both heavier than him by fifty pounds and taller by several inches with six well placed moves. Sometimes, you can't help but remember that John had been in the army. He still was a soldier. "Why can't I stay? If it's about security clearance then I can understand if Lestrade has to go but surely yours is lower than mine..." Lestrade can't help but smirk along with the Major even if he really didn't see this coming. "It's not." Sherlock steps back, suddenly slightly deferential to John. "John Watson, what have you been up to these past years?"

John smiles, quick and light but his eyes are dark and slightly feral. "That, Sherlock Holmes, is for me to know and for you to pester Mycroft about. Now shoo, and let me talk to Major Colfer here. This is nothing you would like."

Lestrade steps back once more and Sherlock stepped back with him, well out of earshot of the two military men. They've been joined by a third, a severe woman who would have been beautiful if not for the livid scar that splodged across her face.

"What did they salute the freak's shadow for?" Anderson says in a carrying snicker. Lestrade winces as Sherlock steps forward along with half the interlopers. Anderson had been standing beside Donovan on the outside of the NSY huddle. Now, he's up against the alley wall, the plastic bag of evidence slipped out of his fingers and in the thin mud on the ground.

"Any man as decorated as Captain Watson is deserves to be respected in any way we can show." The man holding up Anderson and growling in his face is a poster boy for terrifying army man at that point.

"Decorated?" Anderson chokes out. "He's practically broken, look at him!" He flails a hand in John's direction, not actually able to see the man behind the hulk holding him to the wall. "And what's so special that means he gets to stay? He's not even a qualified path..." He breaks into splutters.

"Thank you Corporal Adams." John is standing at what Lestrade recognises as ease. "Please let Dr Anderson down, he's starting to turn blue."

"Yes Captain". Corporal Adams does so and Anderson massages his neck. Everybody is watching, even if the scarily efficient MPs are doing so out of the corners of their eyes.

"In answer to your questions Dr Anderson" again with the full title "In the armed services a man with a Victoria Cross or a George Cross is saluted to first no matter their rank as a sign of respect. As I have been awarded a GC, they saluted me. It was entirely un-necessary and I hate a fuss being made about it." John looked the taller man in the eye. "As for the security clearance, I probably have the highest on scene." He quirked a small smile at the wheezing man.

"So how does that work then?" Lestrade asks, hands in pockets, having made no move towards his forensics officer. "Because I'm Beta-10, and that's pretty high as far as I know."

"One to ten for gamma beta alpha. Ten is the highest, one is the lowest and then above alpha-10 is priority Ultra" Major Colfer says in short tones. "I, personally am an Alpha-5"

"I thought so." John says, turning assessing eyes on him, "because that's the lowest commanding grade that this relevant" he stops to choose his words carefully. "Mission would require. I know Sherlock is an Alpha-3"

"How?" Sherlock didn't need to move to focus on John.

"I read your file."

"But that requires at least Alpha-7, I know because I'm not allowed to read my own damn file. Mycroft gloats about it constantly." The Consulting Detective speaks like it's an old argument between the brothers.

The Good Doctor grins a little, almost purposely teasing and shrugs and turns back to Major Colfer, leaving the Yarders to mutter among themselves and pack up. John is the subject of discussion and despite the fact that he can hear it; he continues talking to the Major.

John, the man himself and his relationship with Sherlock is often the main subject of conversation in the break room. This new information is just going to fan the flames. The System will be running wild for the next week.


End file.
